Mind of a Rider
by music-loving-penguin
Summary: An insight into the mind of Murtagh after the end of Brisinger


**Just a quick one shot to get me back into writing - as always feedback is welcomed :)**

****Not my characters or world just wish they were

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Murtagh sat alone blocking out Thorn's mind in a desperate attempt to find some peace. He was so seldom alone in his own mind these days he forgot how quite it could be.

He tried to think back to a time before be Thorn had hatched for him, before he had been captured, a time when he had been happy. He had been so seldom happy in his life that he struggled to recall what it felt like. The time that stood out the most was the brief period he had spent with his half brother and the Varden despite the problems that it had brought for him. Even though the Varden had been prejudiced against them and imprisoned him they had let him spend his time how he wanted and had not breached his mind. Though he had been incarcerated he had rarely ever experienced such freedom; certainly not since he had been captured and Thorn had hatched for him.

He often wished that he could spend hours locked inside the impressive palace library and immerse himself into all the old books and scrolls. He knew if was a futile wish; every day he was required to train to improve as a Rider and answer the King's demands. It was only when he was supposed to be resting that nothing was expected of him. He never knew how long he would have before the unwelcome voice of the Galbatorix would drag him from his bed and call him to his duties.

He envied Eragon his freedom, though to many it would seem that he had the freedom of the realm and his brother had to hide with the Varden or the elves. However, Eragon still had the freedom of his mind and to Murtagh that had always been the most important thing. He had refused to let the Varden penetrate his mind and it had taken the Kings most powerful magicians to break his mind. Now his brain was an open book to the King and his true name enslaved him to the old man's will.

The old songs talked about the bond between a dragon and their Rider being precious but Murtagh often resented it. If Thorn had jot hatched for him and the egg had remained impassive he would have been of less use to the King. He did not kid himself that he would have been allowed his freedom but he would have had less responsibility placed at his feet.

The voices of the dead dragons howled in his head mourning the loss of their long dead Riders. He wondered if Thorn would grieve him after he died. The young dragon surely must blame Murtagh for the pain that had been inflicted in making him grow so quickly and throwing him into battle so young.

Thorn stirred in the sleeping loft above him, his dreams brushing against Murtagh's wakeful mind but he would not dwell on them tonight. Tonight was his night and tonight he was just Murtagh and not a Rider.

His mind strayed back to his calmer time with the Varden even though it had been during the build up to a battle. He remembered the leader of the Varden, Ajihad's daughter Nasuada. Her quiet dignity and controlled elegance along with her gorgeous deep brown eyes had drawn him to her. She had seemed to see beyond his traitors name and blood. He knew she was now the leader of his master's enemy and that she would rather see him dead than standing against her. He remembered her iron determination and her defiance of her own father. She had risked her life and the wrath of her father and leader to fight in the battle against the Urgals. Now he wished he was lying in his cell in Farthen Dur and being escorted to the library catching brief glimpses of her fair face. He knew he would never see her smile again and all he would see in her eyes was hatred. He had caused her too much pain for anything to happen between them now.

If he had not been vaptured and her father had not been killed he believed he could have found his place in the Varden eventually though most would always resent him and he did not believe in what they stood for. He had not chosen his place fighting for the king, no more than he had chosen to go to the Varden it had all been forced upon him. Most of his life he had been forced into situations beyond his control; his father's name had insured that for him. The only decision he had ever made himself, his escape with Tornac had ended in tragedy. Though he had won his freedom he had lost his mentor. It had all been for naught in the long run as he had ended up back where he started under the control of the king and he had no chance of escape this time.

Changing one's true name was no easy task and he had very little motivation and time it was unlikely that he would ever succeed. He had no glimmer of hope to drive him since Galbatorix had defeated Ormoris through him so Eragon's offer probably no longer stood. With no family who wanted him or remaining friends he had nothing left to fight for. He had given up fighting for himself when his mind had been broken. As far as he was concerned he was lost and he had nothing to help him find his way.

He knew sleep would evade him tonight as his mind was a whirl. He would suffer for it the next day but the rare time alone in his mind was worth any future suffering.

"I could sleep for a week and still expect suffering in my future," he muttered to himself.

A faint sinister laugh echoed inside his mind accompanied by a dull ache, "You will never be alone!" the King screeched drawing Murtagh out of his own thoughts.


End file.
